


there's a hunger still unsatisfied

by a_b028



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: A lot of them - Freeform, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Family Issues, M/M, Male Lactation, Multi, Newborn Children, Period Typical Attitudes, Post Mpreg, Relationship Issues, issues in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25618147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_b028/pseuds/a_b028
Summary: His aunt stares at them as if she was seeing a painting, then finally, finally, “What are you doing here, Tommy? Already bored of your poshy home in London?”“Maybe.”“Alfie’s been a little madder than usual?”He focuses on Rachel, refusing to meet Polly’s gaze, “Maybe.”
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Comments: 9
Kudos: 89





	there's a hunger still unsatisfied

**Author's Note:**

> alright,, so i wrote this because lately i've been struggling with a writer's block and with that fic i kind of tried to get back on my feet with writing (i didn't, really, no); title is borrowed from 'High Hopes' by Pink Floyd
> 
> so the au for this fic that i had in my head is set somewhere post their first meeting in s2 and after that happens we pretend that the storyline goes into completely different direction (duh, obviously). the idea is that tommy and alfie got together and tommy went on to live and thrive in london, leaving birmingham business for the rest of family-and they have their opinions on that, not exactly positive ones. 
> 
> alpha/beta/omega dynamics in this fic is very mild, barely even touched except for a few mentions and typical attidutes towards omegas
> 
> i have no idea if whatever i wrote out there makes sense, but i hope it does. enjoy my sweet readers!!

Coming to Birmingham for a visit shortly after the birth of his daughter has been an easy decision, for him.

Or maybe not exactly easy, just one he didn't really think over before he hopped into a car with a month-old baby tucked neatly into a basket, driven by nothing but a weird sort of a bottled up rage.

Tommy was furious at Alfie, alright, but the closer he gets to his hometown, the more his anger turns into a pure resignation. He is tired, exhausted beyond possibility–because of the baby, because of his body that refuses to accept the fact that he no longer carries a ten pound baby in his stomach, because he bloody misses his family and is bloody tired of Alfie hoovering over him and making decisions about him, them or their business without previous consolidation, that is.

So, he is tired.

Tommy looks at Rachel, who remains unbothered in her little basket, and closes his eyes for a short nap. Alfie and everyone else in fucking London can fuck off.

*

When they reach their destination, Tommy tells his driver to leave him alone till tomorrow morning and that Alfie is informed about his whereabouts (that much is true, he left a card that he is leaving for Birmingham and that he is _not to be bothered_ ).

He closes the door to the car and breathes the muddy, stale air in and out. Tommy will never admit it, but stepping into Birmingham's dirty streets after such a long time feels tad refreshing. Not that the city itself changed, not really–it’s just the fact that it’s not _London_.

Rachel is in his arms, already alert and quite angry that she had to leave the comfort of her basket. Tommy coos at her, praying that she will stay calm _at least_ till they reach the house so they won't attract any attention. People are already staring at them– _celebrities_ that they are–and he won't lie that he feels out of place. Which is funny, considering that it is his fucking hometown.

Tommy walks to the familiar door and knocks ( _knocks_ , when it became that he knocks to his own bloody house), praying to whoever resides up there it will be Polly who opens the door. He can't face any of his brothers now.

It's Ada.

She furrows her brows, taking up his dishevelled appearance and Rachel tucked against him, "Hello Tommy."

He nods, "Hello."

"What's bringing you here?" She asks, and moves out of doorway to let him in, "And where is that alpha of yours?"

Tommy sags with relief once they are inside, surrounded by familiar scents of his family members. Though Rachel seems to be fairing even worse, "He stayed in London."

"Of course he did," Ada coos, then extends her arms, "Hand me that sweet girl and hang your coat."

He does, "Be careful, she is fussy."

"I would be too, if someone dragged me all the way from bloody London like that. All those new scents, not fit for a little nose like yours, eh?" she rocks Rachel, who looks more and more distraught, "Somebody is hungry, too."

Tommy takes off his coat and opens up his shirt and bindings. Everything is already swollen and leaking, for it been a few hours since Rachel’s last feeding. He sits down in a chair and takes his daughter back from Ada's arms. He settles her with a practised move, knowing in what position she latches and calms the quickest. Once she gets her food, Rachel seems content and slowly blinks at him with her doe-like eyes. Tommy traces her cheek with his thumb and fixes her little knitted hat.

She looks so much like Alfie.

"Thomas Shelby, looking all maternal," Ada says, breaking him out of his trance, "Though it's not a Shelby no more."

Tommy hums, "It will always be Shelby," he wipes a lone droplet of milk from Rachel's chin, "Where's Pol?"

"At her prayers," she moves to prepare tea, "I don't know where Arthur or John are, and Finn is upstairs."

"Fine," he says and prays that his voice doesn't sound too relieved, "Good."

They settle in silence. It's not a nice silence, he thinks, more like one that hangs in the air before a storm. Tommy knew what he was settling for when he decided to leave Birmingham.

Rachel unlatches herself with a unsatisfied pop and smacks her little mouth. Tommy smiles at her and wipes her with a clean handkerchief, then does the same with his chest.

Ada settles down two teacups, and takes Rachel from him so he can fix his clothes, "I remember how messy it was with Karl, a bloody nuisance that he was. Always leaving dirty strains of one substance or another on me clothes.”

Tommy gives Ada a tired stare that he hopes is enough to tell her that he is in no mood for a talk about nappies and blankets. He’s had enough of them, for the past few months.

She seems to get that, and busies herself with creating a conversation for both of them. Ada tells him bits and pieces about what’s been stirring in Birmingham when he was in London, and Tommy doesn’t even know when he closes his eyes until his sister touches his shoulder and tells him to go upstairs and rest. Tells him that she will take care of Rachel.

Ada is not an omega, but she is a mother–and she understands. He goes, and falls asleep the very right second his face hits the pillow.

The only good thing about his body going back to normal is the fact that Tommy is too exhausted to be bothered with his usual nightmares.

*

Tommy sleeps and sleeps and then he wakes up to see his aunt staring right at him, Rachel's little head peeking out from the blanket where she is nestled on Polly's shoulder. "When I came home to see Ada holding a baby I thought that maybe someone left it on a doorstep," she makes a funny face at Rachel, "And then I looked at the baby and saw a little Alfie Solomons staring right at me."

He hums, and ignores the indication that Polly thinks that those days it’s much more likely for a random child to be handed to them than Tommy coming to visit with his own, "Hello to you too, Pol," he says, "Rachel behaved?"

"That she did. Quite the lovely baby you have here, absolute delight–considering her parentage."

He gives her a weak laugh, "She only screams like Alfie when no one is looking."

As if sensing that there's a talk about her, Rachel turns her little head and gives them a loud whine, one announcing that yes she slept well but now she would like to eat. Polly coos at her and rocks from side to side, similar to Ada’s way, "She's got an appetite like Alfie, it seems."

"That she does," Tommy replies and takes Rachel from her, "Father's daughter, that what she is."

Polly smiles at them and settles herself in a chair facing the bed. She looks like she wants to say something, he even knows what it is, but Tommy won't be the one to begin this conversation. "And what does her mommy thinks of her?"

Tommy gives Polly a flat stare for that _mommy_ comment and sighs, "She is quite alright, I guess. Lovely, like you said. _Absolute delight_.”

His aunt stares at them as if she was seeing a painting, then finally, _finally_ , “What are you doing here, Tommy? Already bored of your poshy home in London?”

“Maybe.”

“Alfie’s been a little madder than usual?”

He focuses on Rachel, refusing to meet Polly’s gaze, “Maybe.”

"Alright, out with it," Polly clicks her tongue, "Why are you here?"

Tommy shrugs, "Jus' missed my family, I guess."

"Oh Thomas," She laughs, "You know I can see all through your bullshit." They both know this, but that does not mean he is in a mood for heartfelt conversations. He is never in a mood for them.

"Yes."

Polly grunts, "Fine," she says and gets up from her seat and walks towards the door, "When you decide you want to behave like an adult you are, you know where to find me."

Rachel gives Tommy one final whine–a whine that turns into a full crying fit–that tells him that she won't wait no more, so he deposits her on the bed and starts undressing. He doesn't even notice that Polly hadn't left the room until she speaks up, "You are quite good with her, aren't you?"

Tommy looks up, "Today is the first time since she was born when I'm alone with her for more than three hours," he says and pointedly stares at Rachel, "No nannies or maids or Alfie hoovering over me so–no, I don’t believe I'm good with her."

"Thomas Shelby," she eyes him, "You know better than to think of yourself in that way."

"Ada already said that it's not a Shelby no more," he mutters under his breath, suddenly weary and tired again–as if he hadn't slept away half of the day.

Polly _tsks_ , "Ada was the first one to be glad of getting rid of a Shelby name, don't let whatever she said go in your head," she continues, "God knows you already got enough on your plate."

*

The thing is–the thing is that Tommy doesn’t have nearly _enough_ on his plate. He is not doing anything at all, besides small business things that Alfie says are important but Tommy knows better than to believe him on that.

All he does since Rachel’s birth–or conception, because Alfie’s been going crazy since the day one–is sleeping enough to feel alive for a few hours, feeding and changing her and sometimes, but only sometimes, when he is not blinded by exhaustion Tommy musters enough energy to sit down with Alfie and talk about business.

Alfie doesn’t like him talking business right now–always muttering his nonsense about _taking a fucking break like a normal fucking human being, Tommy, you just had a baby_ –but Alfie doesn’t understand that doing something, doing _anything_ that actually has value, is the only state he can function in.

Tommy is just unable to sit in that goddamn awful rocking chair that’s settled in Rachel’s room and rest. _Rest_. He knows that Alfie is able to just sit on his ass for hours no end and read that books of his, but Tommy isn’t. Simply _isn’t_.

He just–he is so fucking _bored_. And he is so fucking tired of being bored. And every single day he asks himself what the fuck he was thinking when he thought that mating and having a baby would be a good idea.

(As if Polly didn’t warn him both times, first time when he announced that he is going to mate with Alfie Solomons, that he will leave the Birmingham business for her and the others and move to London–and the second when he announced that he is having a baby.

The first one went like this.

“You think you will find comfort, or happiness or maybe even peace,” she said, eyeing him from the side and smoking that cigarette of hers, “And maybe you will, but then–the comfort, happiness and peace will become stale. Will not be enough. And that alpha of yours, he is as mad as you are, and from what I hear prone to his temper. I hope you thought twice about this.”

The second one was much quicker, just a sad stare and a quiet, “I thought you knew better than to bring a baby into all of this.”

And damn her for being right.)

*

“I’ve called a family meeting, Thomas,” Polly says over a dinner that Tommy hadn’t touched, “It’s time for all of them to see Rachel, sweet as she is,” she continues, “Who knows when you two will visit again.”

He sighs, “Probably the next time Alfie does something to annoy me,” then picks up his cup of tea and moves it as if to make a toast, “And he does that quite often, those days.”

*

Standing behind closed doors with Ada makes him feel ridiculous and small and–of all things, _shy_. Tommy’s never been shy a day in his life. But now, as he tugs Rachel a little closer to his chest and hears Polly’s words announcing a new _guest_ , he does. He does and he loathes it.

He allows Ada to go through the door first, because of cowardice if nothing else, and is reminded of that moment, years ago, when it was his sister’s turn to introduce a child. Was she as stressed as he is right now?

Seeing his family for the first time since he was around seven months along with Rachel feels overwhelming, and for a second Tommy is unable to focus on any point in the room. What greets him is silence, and then a curt, enthusiastic whistle.

It’s Arthur’s, “Prodigal son himself,” he says, “Finally decided to visit good ole’ family, eh Tommy?”

“That I did,” Tommy replies and shifts his weight from one leg to another, “Missed me much, brother? Should’ve come to visit, then–the invitation still stands.”

Before Arthur even opens his mouth for his usual commentary on visiting Alfie Solomons, Polly pipes in, “We all missed you, Tommy,” she then moves to stare pointedly at his brothers, “Now, before somebody says something they are going to regret, show them that pretty baby of yours.”

He hums and deposits Rachel so she is more visible, she just blinks with hazy eyes at her surroundings, calm after sleeping and eating her part, “Everyone,” he starts, “This is my daughter, Rachel.”

Cheers erupt and before he knows, the baby is snatched away from his arms by Arthur. His brother makes a funny face at her, much alike to the one Polly did earlier, “My, what a girl you have here,” he coos, “Though you didn’t overdo yourself with her looks, did you? Doesn’t look like a Shelby at all, this one.”

Tommy smiles and accepts the glass that John handed him, “Try pushing out a ten pound baby yourself, and then you will be glad that the child even resembles a human,” And it’s a ridiculously unfunny joke because Arthur is an alpha male, so there’s no way for him to ever birth a baby, but every person in the room laughs anyway.

“Ten pounds?” Ada calls out from the other corner of the room, “I will drink to that, Tommy.”

Everyone laughs again, and for a short moment all in the family is peaceful –for a short moment Tommy isn’t considered the _traitor_. Everyone is just happy to see him and his baby daughter. All is good, and he will take it while it lasts.

*

Tommy spends the rest of the evening with his eyes barely open, watching Rachel being passed through the family members and nodding along to whoever is talking to him. It’s mostly Esme, because both Polly and Ada visited him shortly after the birth and engaged him in all sorts of baby talks then, and the Shelby boys are not very invested in the childbearing topics.

He only sobers up from his apathy when he hears that Rachel–currently settled in Ada’s arms–starts fussing. Tommy excuses himself and goes to take the baby from his sister, nods along to goodnight’s and goodbye’s his family offers and heads to his old room. Polly at his tail, seemingly still settled on making him talk.

“Does Alfie even knows you are here?” Is the first thing she says to him once the doors are closed. He pretends he didn’t hear her, busy tending to Rachel, “I asked you a question, Tommy.”

“Do I need his permission to visit my own fucking family?” Tommy replies, exhausted and annoyed because Rachel just won’t shut her crying–she was fed and changed, so her bad mood either comes from the excitements of the day or general tiredness.

Polly sighs and takes her from him, sensing that he is too distressed and drained to properly take care of her, “He is your alpha, so yes, you do need his permission to visit. It’s in the law.”

“Me and Alfie are above the law,” he reminds her and sits down on the bed, “But to answer your question–I left him a note. And even if I didn’t, he is clever enough to know the only place I could’ve gone to in the pathetic state that I am in.”

Rachel is now fully screaming, and the noise hits every nerve in his body, “Calm down, she can sense that you are in a bad mood, s’why she is crying,” Polly scolds him and rocks the baby from side to side, kissing her little head and whispering something against her ear, “That and all of the new things she experienced today, this tiny sweetheart.”

Tommy tries to, for the sake of their ears if nothing else, but the bottled up rage that he packed with himself in the morning suddenly surfaces again. He is in a foul mood, and it seems that Polly just wants to push all of his buttons today, “I don’t know what you were thinking, bringing her here. She’s little over a month old, for fucks sake. Not fit for travels like that.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking, either,” He replies and takes off his shoes to lie down on the bed, curled on his side, “I don’t know what I was thinking back then, too.”

Polly snorts but doesn’t say anything, so he just continues, “I expanded business in London, I helped with business here–but they are still bitter that in the first place I packed myself and went there. I’m exhausted.”

“Nobody is bitter about that,” Polly says and wipes the tears from Rachel’s face. His daughter is all swollen from her wailing, but she is finally calming down. “It’s Alfie that they have a problem with, they don’t trust him.”

“Thanks to him they don’t have to throw shit on daily basis,” he snaps, “I think that’s a good reason to trust him.”

Polly gives him a once-over, “Is it?” she cradles Rachel’s head and gives her a soft smooch on a cheek, surprisingly tender with her almost-niece, “Let us be honest people, Tommy. Even _you_ don’t trust Alfie with business.”

He bites his lips because _isn’t Polly always right._ Tommy absolutely hates that. “My opinion on this matter is not valid–I trust him with things that are most precious to me, and that should be enough.”

“So you were mad at Alfie, and you left London today because of that, “ Polly starts, “And now you are mad at your family for not trusting Alfie–where you yourself said that you don’t trust him with business,” she continues, “What is that you want, Tommy?”

Tommy winces at her tone, feeling a little choked up and very close to crying, “Nothing,” he whispers, “Everything.”

“I was right, wasn’t I?” She paces around with Rachel, making his head even more hazy. They both know to what talk Polly is referring to, but he would rather die than admit that, “All that stuff is driving you even more mad.”

His aunt doesn’t say anything else on the matter, apparently satisfied with what he said today–or merciful enough to notice he is absolutely worn out by this whole day and this conversation, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m tired.”

“Having a child does that to you,” Polly whispers and lowers sleeping Rachel to lie next to him, “Your body feels alien, you are exhausted all the time and you don’t even like your child, at first,” she crosses her arms, “Bloody hard work, that is. Even when you have nannies.”

He settles his hand on Rachel’s back, “Yes.”

“Doctors said something on her secondary gender, or is it too soon?”

“Most likely an alpha,” he says and tucks a blanket around Rachel, “I wasn’t joking when I said she is her father’s daughter.”

Tommy doesn't even know when he falls asleep.

*

In the morning, Tommy settles Rachel into her basket and hops back into the car, internally sighing at what will welcome him in London. 

Knowing Alfie, a bloody mess, that is.

**Author's Note:**

> phew, i hope i didn't fuck up the characters,,
> 
> thanks for reading!! comments and kudos are of course very welcome, i hope yall have a good day!!


End file.
